Hey um… hope y’all liked your :wally buttons!!
Thank you, Baglady, for the buttons! Yes, I think that it is safe to say that everyone liked their Wally buttons–even the wait staff at the Ootback!
Cheers,
Peta
Well, we are just sick (literally and figuratively) at having missed all that. We’ll be at the next one no matter what, even if I have to rent a hospital bed and tow Bluesman and his IV down behind the car.
Just a quick note (Sorry!) to point out that the paragraphs for “Possible Thread Titles” and “Most Flubbed Compliment” should have been switched…to make sense anyway!
And, Lucretia, I for one missed you guys–the alcohol just wasn’t the same without gunfire (stories).
Peta, thank you for the best laugh I’ve had so far today. 
And yes, we forgive you.
I think I’m still slightly hung over. What a weekend.
What Peta- who gave a beautiful, very comprehensive survey- omitted was the late-hours Saturday night discussions. Phil had a ‘headache’ (actually, I think he just wanted to “change”) and he and Peta turned in early.
Shortly after Phil & Peta turned in, the fire trucks and ambulances started showing up. I don’t think we ever found out why, but it was fun to watch and speculate on. After all, we were in the same hotel as Skynryd, so we expected TVs to come flying out the windows at any moment. (Phil later expressed his regret at not having thrown his TV out of his 21st floor window.)
Satan then proceeded to get a wild hair up his famous ass, and wanted to go find some place to play Putt-Putt. Aenea and her friend bowed out (she was absolutely stunned by the concept of many of us wanting to go out and play a midnight round of miniature golf), as did Uncle Beer and Elelle (who decided that sleep was a good idea).
We spent half-an-hour driving down to Virginia Beach, looking for the golf place with the “giant pink elephant” which had promised us that they’d stay open. Guess how many miniature golf places there are in Virginia Beach with a giant pink elephant out front? At least two, because we went to the wrong one. But somehow we managed to convince the owners to let us get in one last round. RT kicked out asses, with Melin and Satan tied for second.
After that, RT got a hankering for Krispy Kremes, and managed to get directions to one. Satan got gas (I think he actually wanted to run out of gas to find out exactly how far his new car could go before refills, but Melin was just way too nervous about the thought of being stranded), we all got to the Krispy Kreme, and new converts were gained to the idea that a hot Krispy Kreme is the best food on earth.
We dropped everyone back off at the hotel, then Satan, Monfort, and I proceeded back to our own hotel. One of us collapsed into bed exhausted. Another of us decided to sleep on the floor and whine about it until Satan graciously offered to sleep in my bed and leave a full bed to the whiner. (Actually, upon getting up the next morning and seeing how Montfort had pulled apart all of the sheets and bedding in his sleep, I think it was best he got his own bed.) The other of us collapsed into bed and turned on the TV (which had some really strange shit on it. “Betty Blowtorch” being the main one I remember.)
Sorry we were late getting to brunch Sunday morning. First off, it took us longer to get changed than we expected (and we were only getting changed, not “changed”. Remember, I’d rather have a guy kick me in the shins than give me a blowjob. Not that anyone’s ever given me that specific choice, mind you, but you know what I mean); second, we lost Montfort in the parking garge.
Anyways. I certainly had a blast, and I’d love to see any or all of you again. Admittedly, it’ll be a month or two before I’m willing to take another six hour drive to do it.
Thanks again to Chief Scott and Uncle Beer for magnamity and generosity.
Sounds like a good time was had by all. Sorry that I had to miss it, particularly since I’m only about an hour away.
Chief seems to have done our tradition of Southern hospitality well. Good man.
I hope to be able to see you all the next time y’all are in the area.
Lee
I opened this morning’s Washington Post, and what do I see but an article about the Maize Maze. Mrs. F. was wondering what could possibly be that funny in the paper!
Crap, if I’d known about the phone thing I might have called a hotel room or two . . . coughFALCONcough
This sounds like significantly more fun than moving back into college, though it would’ve been weird being (it appears) the only non-legal (drinking) person there . . . shots of root beer and cream soda aren’t as exciting as one might think.
Sorry I couldn’t make it. I was hijacked by friends (it was my birthday.) I’m glad you all had a good time, though!
or the day after that. I’m just sure it wasn’t a 1970’s acid flash back.
Quick impressions:
- Falcon – Sweet, incredibly nice, {overt reference deleted} and the only one who didn’t pick on me.
- Firefly – Unassuming, amicable. I liked him until I saw the thread title. Then I saw what options were bandied about… now he’s my best bud!
- pld – Next time I get the BBQ ribs platter for the billiards room!
- Peta – Queen Innuendo Bitch Putz! I love folks who give the put-downs as good as they get. I admire those who give back better – to the point where I must hang my head in shame, turn away and drown my shame in cool amber lager. (BTW, did I thank you for the thank you letter?)
- Melin – The first doper I met. She had a good idea it was me (tie-dye). I didn’t know her from Adam… but luckily I said “Hi” anyway.
- aenea – Hey! She did smell awesome! They were clove cigarettes! And I still want to know where the eyebrow stud comes out. You are forgiven for the “damnable” smiley cards.
- Adam – Didn’t punch me when I demanded aenea kneel before me.
- Poly – You have a great woman.
- Skulldigger – You have a nice scarf!
- Ca-bahj – Swindler. Takes braggarts and knocks them from their self-erected (!) billiard pedestals.
- ellele – Buddhist monk-harvested raw one-with-the-bees honey does not go in coffee, m’dear! Yuck!
- Jess – No orange dress! But it was short {No not my dick, not with that dress}.
- John C – Hey! “Change” is good!
- Montfort – “I am so fucking tired, but I’m not tired from fucking (like some people).” I was changing!!
- Satan – Pleased 20 balding “old” guys in one shot. And Falcon says I’m good at changing!
- Drain – I’m not as sound as I drunk.
Jeezle, guys.
I had the greatest weekend. What a way to rejoin civilization. Sory, I crapped out so early Saturday but, shit, that Aussie beer packs a powerful punch! Next Dopefest I’ll get into an intensive pre-fest training regimen. I know I could have kicked your asses at Putt-Putt, too!
Seriously. I had the absolute best time I’ve had in a long time. I’ll even forgive you all for dragging me out of the rack Sunday morning. It sounds as though all of you had a great time – for that I’m especially pleased.
And I move that Marriott change their corporate motto to:
Marriott: We’ve got changing rooms!
I had a fabulous time, and am very glad I was able to attend. A huge thank you to Chief Scott and UncleBeer, two kind and generous gentlemen.
Has anyone mentioned that Elelle is a very charming person yet?
Pics and comments are forthcoming, I have to work for a while yet.
I had SO much fun at this Dopefest . . . I am only sorry I missed out on midnight putt-putt. I left the folks who were gathered at the hotel bar to use the facilities, then went upstairs and asked Leigh-Anne to give my regards. I felt, as my father used to put it with such charm, like 10 lbs. of shit in a 5 lb. sack.
Of course, I went upstairs and got in bed, and was drifting into a nice, peaceful sleep, when the frigging fire alarm went off. (WARNING: More information than you need coming up.) I sleep in the buff, so I had to wake up, stumble into some clothing, and begin making my way downstairs. We made it from 21 all the way down to 16 (!) before being told to disregard the alarm.
I cannot begin to thank ChiefScott and UncleBeer for their above-and-beyond generosity. Truly, these are kings among men.
It was great to meet all the Dopers I had never met IRL before, Melin, who I have of course known since the AOL days. She and I have gone from bitter rivals to much much less than that. 
She was a real sweetie, and so friendly and generous. Jess, another ex-AOLie, who was incredibly funny. And that was a pretty nice dress. Ask her about the tattoo of the fleet on her ass. 
Unclebeer, elelle, Montfort, Polycarp, Skulldigger, and anyone else I’m forgetting–what a great crowd!
And, of course, it is always and forever great to see Satan, Falcon, aenea, RTFirefly, John Corrado, and other Dopers I’ve met before.
Soon we’ll have to have a Super Deluxe East Coast Doper Supermeet, with Dopers from Maine to Miami attending. Satan, how’s your place sound?
Where are the pictures posted? I must have had the best time of all since I read that I had my picture taken and don’t even remember leaving DC over the weekend. Maybe seeing the pics will help me remember making the drive down and back.
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Hmm . . . [comment deleted so Falcon doesn’t hop on metro, go to GMU and kick my ass].
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Is anyone else who didn’t go to the fest completely puzzled by that? Or is that how CS intended it?
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Did Monty add that “like some people” or is there something you need to divulge?
How long does it take to change?
- Do I want to know what you mean by “pleased” there?
OK . . . what the HELL does “Changing” mean?
::comment about Marriott read:: WTF DOES CHANGING MEAN? IS THIS WHY I’M NOT GETTING ANY?
Spelled out very slowly for iampunha.
Certain members of our party said that they were going off to their room to get “changed”.
After two hours of getting “changed”, Satan called up to their room to see if they would join us for drinks. They replied that they expected to spend the rest of the evening getting “changed”. From Satan’s expression, it became apparent that they may well have still been getting “changed” during the conversation with Satan.
When we gathered for breakfast, the two in question had, in fact, changed clothes; they also looked mighty satisfied with themselves and each other.
If that doesn’t really spell it out for you, just show up for the next Doperfest with three or four outfits and ask female Dopers if they’d like to go get “changed”. If they do, they’ll probably show you exactly what it’s a euphamism for, and you’ll be a very happy man. Lord knows, from some of the threads around here, there are plenty of Dopers who’d like to go get “changed” with you.
I reitirate- while Satan, Monfort, and I were late to breakfast because we took a while to get changed, we were get changed, not getting “changed”.
First things first. Chief, I have to thank you again for buying dinner and drinks for the entire gang. It was totally unnecessary and greatly appreciated. Thank you, my friend; next time dinner is on me.
Yet another fabulously successful doperfest with yet more fabulous doper folk. I finally got to meet several of my longtime SD idols, meet again with a couple others and after listening to her and elelle late into the evening, I have a new idol. Aenea, you are a remarkable woman. And not just because we share an opinion of you know whom.
I wish I could have arrived early enough to shoot pool with the rest of you. It appears someone was needed to put ChiefScott in his proper place—on the waiting list, or maybe someone else for him to vanquish in hand-to-hand combat. Dinner was great (including the superb service from the very cute waitress), even though I can still taste garlic from the shrimp on my toothbrush and there was far too much of it. Yeah Chief, that was good bread, but there was no need to throw samples to the passersby. Then we had dessert; well, some of us anyway. I had another giant mug o’ beer. The highlight of dessert had to be elelle’s cheesecake sculpture. Or maybe Phil’s comment about the dessert names, “Chocolate Thunder from Down Under,” indeed. What a bad name for food. And whoever decided we should be seated outside made a shrewd decision. I’m sure it made things much easier to hose down Sunday morning, although it probably had a negative impact on the number of patrons Saturday evening. It was also interesting to see the shocked looks on the faces of the conventioneering Baptists as they scurried past. I wonder how they liked the LDS bibles in their hotel rooms.
The Marriott bar was also wise enough to seat us outside and we had yet another superb (and cute as a bug) waitress. I had a bit of trouble paying the bar tab since their credit card verification machine didn’t seem to like my debit card. I thought I was gonna have to make beds in the morning to pay the tab, but no. The Marriott had an ATM in the lobby that seemed to think I was good for the cash; it even asked several times if I’d like to make another transaction. Disaster avoided, I’m a terrible housekeeper. Another doperfest first has to be fire trucks. At least we now know it takes more than a potential hotel fire to panic the dopers. I s’pose though, it helps that the bar service wasn’t interrupted; then you’d have seen a true panic. At least from me.
I have just a couple more random observations. Somehow elelle ended up with the bag of extra “I Like Ike” buttons. The cleaning crew of the Marriott will be weeks finding all of them that are now hidden in the lobby. And what was up with the bicycle race Sunday? These guys were tooling around inside the parking garage when I went to retrieve my car. Odd, not to mention dangerous. Cabbage, I’m still confused about just what the hell was in that first drink you ordered at the Ootback; I leave it to you to explain here.
Now I get to air my gripe about the drive home. After leaving Norfolk at a few minutes past one o’clock Sunday afternoon, I finally arrived home in Toledo at 4:00 this morning. 15 fucking hours to drive about 650 miles. Granted, I stopped on the Ohio Turnpike and slept for 2 1/2 hours, but this is ridiculous. I-64 and I-95 are off my list of roads I’m ever gonna travel again. It took almost 3 hours to drive the 100 miles from Richmond, VA to Washington, DC. And then it rained … and rained … and rained. I’ve never pulled off the highway for rain before; this is a first. But just to prove people are nuts, while I was sitting on the side of the highway, some lunatic sloshed past on a motorcycle. The Penna Pike is also off the list. The entire thing appears to be under construction. Governor Tom Ridge can shove the whole toll-road up his ass one mile marker at a time. Truly, a road trip from hell.
But I’d do it again to eat and drink with you guys. I had a great time. Thanks all.
Uncle-
Wish I had known you were driving in from that part of the country…as I make the trip back and forth from Va Beach to Cleveland several times a year, I would have been able to give you some shortcuts and work-arounds. Oh well, perhaps next time.
Glad you got home safe, that’s more important than getting home faster.
Sudden epiphany.
I shared a room with Satan and Montfort.
Satan and I slept in the same bed.
Montfort had a camera.
Last time I fell asleep around a Doper with a camera, I was posed in a compromising position with the most bizzare thing in the room.
Satan was the most bizzare thing in our room.
Montfort had a camera.
I was alseep.
I’m not sure I want to see the pictures from this Dopefest.
To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what it was, either. For all I know it may have had kerosene in it.
I tend to drink more mixed drinks than beer, and when I’m out somewhere that has their own specialty drinks, I like to give them a try sometimes. Unfortunately, that backfires and kicks me in the ass sometimes; this particular drink was called the “Wallaby Darned”, wallaby darned if it didn’t taste like shit. It had vodka, which is always a plus in my book, but the drink was this frozen mass of…something, covered with a sickeningly sweet peachy syrup. Now peach is not necessarily a bad flavor, but if you take that same flavor, multiply its intensity by a factor of 10, and insert it into a syrupy substance, it can be quite objectionable.
Learn from my mistake and do not order this drink. I should have stuck with my standard Long Island Iced Tea…